


Matches Made in Pegasus

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Marks [3]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 04:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6688384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Love Springs Forth challenge, <a href="http://story-works.livejournal.com/4719.html">part two</a>, love's first blossom. <i>John had learned a valuable lesson growing up as a Sheppard, which had only been reinforced by marriage to Nancy and over a decade of military service: emotions are weapons. Never enter a situation unarmed.</i> Basically episode tags to SGA 2x03 Runner and 2x04 Duet with a twist: Rodney and Lorne get kidnapped by Ronon, and then Rodney ends up stuck inside Cadman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Matches Made in Pegasus

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the amazing [](http://brumeier.livejournal.com/profile)[brumeier](http://brumeier.livejournal.com/) for her support and excellent beta services, and to everyone who was so encouraging when the first installment was posted. Some dialogue lifted directly from 2x03 and 2x04 of SGA.

John had learned a valuable lesson growing up as a Sheppard, which had only been reinforced by marriage to Nancy and over a decade of military service: emotions are weapons. Never enter a situation unarmed. So he kept his emotions battened down under a careful hatch of insouciant smirks and sarcasm. The Mark on the inside of his right wrist blazed bright. Now that it was fully formed, John could see that it was beautiful. It was a Stargate. And not just any old Stargate, but a Pegasus gate. And the chevrons highlighted on it were the address to Atlantis. John wondered if anyone else on Earth had a Mark that matched Rodney’s and what Rodney must have thought, when he finally realized what the small but delicately intricate Mark depicted.

Rodney was one of John’s best friends. He’d admit that - if not freely, then a little less grudgingly than he’d admit that Teyla could kick his ass in a hand-to-hand fight. Rodney had kept his promise once the whole shadow-and-shield incident was sorted out, and he’d tutored John in Ancient, sufficient that John could skim information in the Ancient database without needing to wait around for a translator. And John - he remembered the terror that had almost set his heart beating out of his chest when Rodney slapped on his shield and stepped into the shadows, so he made sure Rodney was gate-rated. Better than gate-rated. He made sure Rodney could fire his sidearm accurately (even if he was still a little slow to draw and aim). He gave Rodney the basics in hand-to-hand, but after a particularly harrowing moment when Rodney ended up on top of him and pinned him down, John shifted that task to either Ford or Teyla, whoever had the time to do it. Rodney didn’t mind at all, since he and John still had regular time at the range and dabbling in Ancient. And John - John tried not to read too much into the fact that Rodney wanted to have regular time with him.

Because even though Rodney wanted to have regular time with him, Rodney was also hooking up with Kusanagi occasionally, and had even had a couple of angry hatesex encounters with Kavanagh of all people (Rodney had confessed to the latter over breakfast the morning after one such encounter, bemoaning his terrible taste in men). John got it. He really did. They’d spent an entire year convinced they’d made a one-way trip to Atlantis. Between the Wraith and the Genii, they were in constant peril, and that wasn’t even counting the fact that the Ancients, in all their scientifically advanced glory, had left unintentional booby traps all over the city for hapless Terrans to stumble across, unleash, and then have to fight off. Everyone on the expedition was stressed out, afraid, lonely, and a little desperate. Most of them had come on the expedition with few meaningful ties to Earth, and those who had had ties believed them irrevocably severed. Seeking comfort from each other was natural and, Heightmeyer would probably say, healthy.

Some expedition members, by virtue of their positions, didn’t have the same luxury of seeking human comfort - Heightmeyer, Elizabeth, Carson, John. Even though Rodney was CSO, he didn’t quite have the same responsibilities the others had as far as the safety and well-being of everyone on the expedition. So Rodney took comfort where he could get it, and John looked the other way, pretended it wasn’t like a knife to the gut when Rodney would come strolling into the commissary the morning after a pleasant encounter looking...warm. Glowy. Happy. (He never looked like that after an encounter with Kavanagh, but he did look more relaxed.)

So when Rodney was late to Lorne’s briefing about the dead wraith on P3M-736, John had to greet him with, “Thanks for coming, Rodney.” He loaded on some extra sarcasm just in case, because he could see the faint bruise on Rodney’s throat, knew he’d been with someone else.

Rodney lifted his chin, defensive. “I was - I was right in the middle of -”

Elizabeth broke in, let Rodney know what planet they were headed to, that Ford might be on the planet, that they might have a chance to get him back, and Rodney was left spluttering while John and Lorne and the others prepped for the mission. John needed a moment to get himself together before he could look Rodney in the eye properly, because in the middle of the day? Really?

After the arrival of the Daedalus with reinforcements, now that contact with Earth was re-established, most of the desperate and furtive hooking-up had stopped, because suddenly they weren’t alone, connections with people back on Earth could be re-forged. All of the unlikely couples realized they were just that - unlikely. And awkwardness had descended among the original - surviving - members of the expedition. New blood, like Lorne and Cadman, was helping shake things up. People were getting hopeful about actual dating now.

Lorne had come off of SG-11. He’d been on a gate team as a surveyor for some alien mining operation. His record was positive, full of good reports from his COs, and so far John liked him as a 2IC. John also noticed that Lorne wore a black bandanna that covered his throat entirely. It blended in with his uniform well enough, but it was obvious he was using it to cover his Mark, whatever it was. John wondered if this newest batch of Atlantis recruits followed the pattern of the original expedition members, if they also bore Rare Mark Types.

John came out of his unhappy mental meanderings about who Rodney had just been hooking up with when Colonel Caldwell approached him. The conversation was brief and biting, especially when Caldwell took a stab at John about Sumner, because dammit, Caldwell hadn’t been there, and he didn’t understand the reality of the Wraith, not yet. John hoped for his sake he never would understand.

John was glad when he was in the cockpit of the jumper, flying through the gate to the other planet. Maybe, after all that had gone wrong, they could find Ford and something would go right. The pleasant buzz of Atlantis, mini-Atlantis in the jumper, settled some of John’s jangling nerves. Once they landed, John fired up the HUD, checked the LSD.

He sighed. “Life-signs detector is useless.”

Rodney said, “I told you so.”

John took a quick breath to give himself a moment to get his tone just right. “Just preserving your streak of being right. Officially.”

Rodney must have missed the sarcasm, because he continued being his over-informative self. “Dr. Parrish believes that the indigenous plant life retains enough residual radioactivity absorbed during the daylight to, um, well, to screw up our sensors.”

“Making it the perfect place to hide.” Damn. Ford was too smart for his own good.

“Yes.”

John stood up and headed for the back of the jumper, contemplating assignments for his men.

Rodney called after him, “Or the perfect place to be exposed to dangerously high levels of solar radiation!”

Lorne was checking in with his men. Good. An efficient commander was informed and had good lines of communication with his men. John missed Ford fiercely for just a moment, his bouncy enthusiasm and his excitement at being in another galaxy.

John said, “Let's start a sweep. Teams of two. Radio contact every twenty minutes.” He scanned the dark sky, and then an unfamiliar scent hit him, one that reminded him of home. He turned, and there was Rodney, smearing on lotion. “How come it smells like I'm on vacation?”

Rodney smiled at him and offered his purple jar of sunblock. “Could it be the simulated tropical aroma of cocoa butter?”

His attention to the smallest, strangest details was impressive, bizarre, and endearing. John forced himself not to smile. “Strong enough for anyone within five miles to smell you.”

Rodney’s smile dissolved, and he rolled his eyes. Precisely the reaction John had been aiming for. “Like they haven't been tipped off by the Aqua Velva?”

“It's dark,” John pointed out, because he didn’t realize Rodney could smell his aftershave, let alone recognize the scent. And now he was hyper-aware of the fact that Rodney knew what he smelled like.

“Yeah, well, the sun will be up in two hours, forty-three minutes, and…ten seconds.” Rodney looked at his watch pointedly.

Teyla stepped out of the jumper and onto the grass with John, sweeping the clearing, alert.

“It's raining,” John added, and maybe he was needling Rodney unnecessarily, but something about this whole situation was making John jittery. Possibility of finding Ford. That encounter with Caldwell. And Rodney, still with that mouth-shaped bruise just peeking over his collar -

Rodney huffed. “So we'll be cold and miserable. Look, the cloud cover will depreciate a small percentage of UV rays, but ninety-five percent of deadly is still deadly.”

Lorne frowned. “Dr. Parrish said a day or two of exposure wasn't going to kill us.” Good - someone else for Rodney to aim his sarcasm at for a moment while John considered his options.

“Oh, yes, and Dr. Parrish has a PhD in what? Right. Botany.” Rodney rolled his eyes.

John had pushed it too far with his sarcasm, and he needed a clear head if he was going to approach Ford while he was hopped up on Wraith enzyme. He made his decision. “Teyla, you're with me. Coughlin, take Billick. Reed, you and Sherman cover the gate, and Major, you've got McKay.”

 

*

Rodney had the sneaking suspicion John was upset at him. He wasn’t sure why, but he was pretty sure John’s leaving him with the cranky Major Lorne (who took the news with a sarcastic, “Oh, lucky me”) was more to punish Rodney than to punish Lorne.

Rodney figured he ought to make the best of the situation. He held out his jar of sunscreen. “Here. Try some. SPF one hundred.”

Lorne raised his eyebrows. “A hundred?”

Rodney nodded earnestly. “You can't buy this kind of protection. I make it myself. Waterproof, too.”

“Great.” Lorne sighed and led Rodney out of the jumper.

It was going to be a long mission, Rodney was sure. Lorne took point, heading through the trees, weapon at the ready. Rodney trundled along behind him.

“So exactly what kind of special training do you guys have to go through to get this sort of mission?” It was a stupid question, really. Apart from a crash-course in flying 302’s, John hadn’t gone through any special training to become the military commander of Atlantis. Trial by fire, more like.

“‘You guys’?” Lorne echoed distractedly.

“Yeah, you know. Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines. It's a great place to start.” Rodney hadn’t listened too closely to John hashing out the details of the newest wave of Atlantis recruits, but he thought he remembered John saying Lorne had been on a gate team at the SGC before shipping out to Atlantis. He was specially trained, right?

“And by this mission, you mean hunting down a skilled weapons expert hopped up on Wraith drugs in the pitch black of an alien planet?” Lorne asked.

“Yes.”

Lorne said, “Actually, I skipped that course in major school.”

“Yeah, I was afraid of that.” Apparently smart-assery was a course both Lorne and John had taken, though.

Lorne continued, still scanning their surroundings, “I was hoping Lieutenant Ford might recognize a friendly face and just turn himself in.”

Rodney processed that, paused. “What, you mean me?”

“Well, you were friends, weren't you?” Lorne glanced at him briefly, raised his eyebrows. He wasn’t bad-looking. Handsome in a wholesome kind of way. Nice blue eyes. Wore a black scarf that probably doubled as a ninja mask.

John had prettier eyes, though. Rodney had never been able to accurately describe the color of them. Green, gold, gray.

Well, if Lorne was going to be smartass, Rodney could play that game. He’d learned from the best, after all. “Oh yeah. When we weren't out on harrowing missions, we used to hang out together. I'd share my dreams of a self-sustaining fusion. He would talk of how you could sever a man's torso with a P-90.”

Lorne came up short, raised a closed fist, scanning his surroundings, even more alert.

Rodney had trained with John an awful lot, but sign language had never been one of his fortes. “What, that means ‘quiet,’ right?”

Lorne nodded. “Yeah.” Then he ducked behind a tree stump. “Get down.”

Rodney contemplated the muddy forest floor.

Lorne grabbed the front of his jacket and yanked him to the ground. “Get down!”

“What? What?” Rodney hissed.

Lorne peered through the scope on his rifle. “I thought I saw something move.” Then he turned and peered expectantly at Rodney.

Rodney would have been able to read a single waggle of John’s eyebrows, but Lorne was a mystery. “What?”

“Say something.”

“What?” Rodney winced. Lorne probably thought he didn’t know any other word.

“Talk to him,” Lorne said. He had a tendency to duck his chin beneath his dark scarf, and it muffled his voice.

Rodney’s nerves jangled. Sure, he’d done brave things in the past. Walked into that darkness with his personal shield on. Let the Genii torture him. Worked under intense pressure. But he was no soldier, no hero. People kept forgetting that. Lorne probably didn’t know that. “What if it's not him?”

Of course Lorne grabbed Rodney by the shoulder and pushed him to his feet. Why did soldiers think they could get all handsy with him?

Lorne glared at him, so he started to talk.

“Ford? You there? It's your…best friend Rodney. Rodney McKay. Everyone…misses you back at Atlantis, and Dr. Beckett's figured out a way to help you, so you've just got to trust me and…”

Something rustled in the distance. Rodney saw someone moving. Lorne was on his feet, dashing through the trees. He’d gone from still to sprinting in an instant. Guy was like a gazelle. Rodney hurried after him. He heard Lorne talking into his radio.

“Colonel Sheppard, it's Major Lorne. In pursuit of suspect.”

Rodney really hoped it was Aiden. He wasn’t sure he could cope if it wasn’t. But he wasn’t sure what he would do if it was.

Lorne was too damn fast. Rodney lost sight of him, cursed. “Dammit! Lorne, where are you?” Belatedly, he reached for his radio, the best way to talk to Lorne if they weren’t in line-of-sight, and then he broke through the trees, and there was Lorne, unconscious on the ground, like a broken doll flung by a careless giant.

Rodney toggled his radio to call John, and there was a flare of red light, and his world went dark. 

*

John and Teyla found the Wraith corpse precisely where Lorne had said they would. He’d marked it with glow sticks and everything. It was good to know they trained them right at the SGC. John knelt, checked the Wraith’s gear. Stunner. Blade. Grenades. He liked their grenades. But there was no sign of any other Wraith. He glanced up at Teyla. “Do you have any idea what a lone Wraith would be doing around here on foot?”

She scanned the trees, answered without breaking her surveillance. “No. It is unusual. Perhaps Lieutenant Ford was able to lure him through the gate.” Once she was sure their perimeter was secure, she knelt, examined the ground around the corpse. “It looks as if someone might have headed off in this direction.” She stood up, following the tracks, and John followed her. He wished he’d learned more about tracking in his youth, not that he’d ever had good reason to, growing up as he had and being a chopper pilot.

He kept track of the direction they were heading from the Stargate as they walked. He listened when each of the teams checked in. He wanted, very badly, to check in on Rodney and Lorne, make sure Lorne was keeping an eye out for Rodney, but Lorne was a good soldier, and Rodney had been off-world plenty of times. He’d be fine.

Teyla stilled.

John paused beside her, weapon at the ready, kept his voice low. “What is it?”

“I heard something.”

“Ford?” He took a deep breath. “Is that you? It's John.” He winced. Ford had never called him by his first name. They’d never quite made it that far, never banished the strictures of rank between them.

Teyla called out, “Aiden, listen to me. We want to help you. Please. Just come out. We only want to talk.”

There was a noise. Teyla gave chase, John hot on her heels. Then Lorne’s voice crackled over the radio.

“Colonel Sheppard, it's Major Lorne. In pursuit of suspect.”

John’s mind raced. “What? So are we. Where are you?”

“We're two klicks south of the Stargate. Where are you?”

There was a crackle of static, but no answer.

Teyla came to a halt in a clearing up ahead, turned, scanned her surroundings.

“Major Lorne?” John tapped at his radio.

Still no response.

Teyla turned to him, alarmed.

“Major Lorne, what’s your position?”

Another crackle of static.

“Major Lorne, please respond.”

No response. John tapped his radio again. “Rodney?”

Teyla turned pale, stepped closer to him. “John?”

He shook his head, heart pounding. “I’ve lost them.” He immediately radioed back to the team at the gate. “Reed, Sherman, any sign of Rodney or Lorne?”

“No, sir,” Sherman said immediately.

John checked in with Coughlin and Billick. They hadn’t heard from Rodney or Lorne either.

“We’re headed back there,” John said. “Keep eyes and ears out for Rodney and Lorne.” He lifted his chin at Teyla, and together they oriented themselves, retraced their steps to the gate.

John’s heart was still fluttering. Rodney had been taken, either by a crazy Wraith-drugged Ford or someone else who’d taken out a Wraith on their own, someone with Genii-like weapons.

As soon as they were on the jumper, John reached out to it with his mind, fired it up, dialed Atlantis. He transmitted his IDC, and then Elizabeth’s voice came over the radio.

“Sit rep, Colonel Sheppard?”

“No sign of Ford. Lost contact with Major Lorne and Rodney.”

“Do you think Ford has them?” Elizabeth asked.

“We have no way of knowing if this is Ford at all. If it is, then we have some predictability for dealing with him,” John said.

“I’ll send a team as back-up. Bring our boys home. Check-in in two hours.”

“Yes, ma’am.” John disconnected the radio call and disengaged the gate so a team could dial out from Atlantis. He nodded to Coughlin. “All four of you, hold the gate. We’ll start sweeping for Lorne and McKay.”

“Yes, sir,” Coughlin said.

“The sun is coming up,” Teyla said.

John wished fiercely for some of Rodney’s stupid sunblock.

Lorne was a good soldier. He’d keep Rodney safe. Not as well as John would, but John had to trust that his 2IC would keep the CSO alive.

John knew it was just his imagination, but the Mark on the inside of his wrist was burning.

*

Rodney came awake slowly. “Ford?” He blinked several times to clear his vision. His neck and shoulders hurt. His arms were tied behind his back. It was bright out - daylight! Oh no! They would burn! They would -

Wait. He wasn’t in direct sunlight. Rodney cast a look about. He was propped up in some kind of cave made of a deep red stone he associated with the sandstone of the high deserts in Southern Utah and Nevada. There were holes like windows carved into the walls. They didn’t look quite regular enough to have been man-made, but he could see sunlight streaming down to the ground, bright and almost blinding.

His head ached like he’d been hit with a Wraith stunner, but the last thing he’d seen was that red light and Wraith stunners were yellow, and -

Lorne. Where was Lorne?

Rodney craned his neck. He saw a pile of their tac vests and weapons and radios in a corner. And there - Lorne. Propped against the opposite wall, still unconscious, head lolled to one side.

Whoever had taken them had removed his ubiquitous black ninja scarf, and Rodney could see his Mark. It was unlike any Rodney had ever seen before, three vertical dots, a vertical line, and an upside-down capital L. If Rodney hadn’t known it was a Mark, he’d have thought it a tattoo in some kind of alien language. It was uncomfortably intimate, seeing someone else’s Mark after everyone on the expedition made sure to keep them covered, and Lorne was oddly vulnerable, exposed in such a way. Rodney’s Mark, thankfully, was still covered, because it was low on his right hip where his clothes always covered it. (He hated when anyone commented on it, initially because it had been so rare, and now his occasional bed partners always had to point out how much it looked like a Stargate. It didn’t just look like a Stargate. It _was_ a Stargate. Rodney was very weirded out by this fact.)

“Lorne!” Rodney hissed. “Major!” What was his first name? Rodney never knew the soldiers’ first names. He’d only learned Ford’s because they’d been on a team together. Their captor had taken off their shoes but left on their socks. They were unarmed and vulnerable and would be in trouble if they tried to escape on foot.

“Major Lorne, wake up!”

Lorne stirred, groaned. “McKay? Doc? What’s going on?” He blinked and looked around. He tested the bonds on his ankles. His arms were behind his back. Rodney guessed Lorne was tied up just like he was. Was Lorne as sore as Rodney was?

“We have to get out of here,” Rodney said. “Or at least radio John for help. Can you get out?”

Lorne drew his knees up to his chest in a startling display of flexibility and wriggled, wriggled, and somehow he managed to get his hands in front of him. His wrists were bound with the same coarse rope as his ankles. He kept his knees bent and started picking at the ropes at his ankles.

“Ford’s damn smart,” Lorne muttered. “Took my boot. I had a knife in my boot.”

“I know,” someone said, and they both froze.

A giant loomed in the entrance to the cave. He stepped forward, and once he was out of the glare of the sunlight Rodney could see he was a man with a heavy beard, thick dreadlocks, and massive shoulders. He had to be at least half a foot taller than Lorne, who was a little shorter than Rodney.

“You’re not Ford,” Rodney said dumbly.

Lorne, who’d never known Ford but had probably seen pictures of him, said nothing.

“No,” the man said. He knelt and started rooting through their gear.

Lorne tried to push himself to his feet, and suddenly the giant man was pointing what looked like a space-age pirate blunderbuss at him. Lorne went very still.

“Look, we mean you no harm,” Lorne said, keeping his tone light and gentle. “I’m Major Evan Lorne. This is Dr. Rodney McKay.”

“I’m a scientist, not a medical doctor,” Rodney broke in quickly.

“Major?” the man echoed.

“It’s my rank. Military designation,” Lorne said. His first name was Evan. Rodney filed that away for later.

The man crossed the cave, pinned Lorne against the wall with one hand, grabbed his chin and wrenched his head to one side, exposing Lorne’s throat. “Then why do you have a Specialist insignia on you?”

Lorne blinked rapidly, obviously in pain. “What? No, that - that’s my Compatibility Mark.” A blush crept across his cheeks.

The man frowned. “I don’t understand.” He tilted his head, shook back his dreadlocks, and Rodney could see, on the left side of his throat, in the same place as Lorne’s Mark, was a matching symbol, only it was dark, obviously a tattoo.

Rodney searched his memory. What did Teyla call them? Not everyone in Pegasus had Marks, and everyone’s were different. Some Athosians, like Teyla, had Marks, but theirs resembled the Wraith face tattoos because they were descended from The Taken (although as far as the other Athosians knew, the Mark on Teyla’s face was indicative of her ability to sense the Wraith coming).

“It’s his Soul Mark,” Rodney burst out. It was a stupid name, because the Marks were genetic and had nothing to do with souls, which didn’t even exist, but that was neither here nor there, because the strange man looked like he could crush Lorne’s windpipe with one hand.

The man recoiled sharply, like he’d been burned. “You’re Soul Marked?”

Lorne nodded frantically, gasping for breath.

“Where’s your Soul Mate?” The man withdrew further, looking nervous. He cast a look at Rodney.

“Don’t have one,” Lorne said, clearing his throat roughly. “There’s never been anyone on my planet who has a matching Mark.” He was still red in the face, though whether it was from lack of oxygen or because everyone was discussing his Mark, Rodney wasn’t sure.

The man lifted a hand to the tattoo on the side of his throat, and he looked startled. Spooked.

Rodney offered the man a wide, if strained, smile. “So, you’re in the military then? Specialist?”

“Used to be,” the man said.

“What’s your name?”

“Ronon Dex.”

“Hi, Ronon. What brings you to this very sunny planet?” Rodney kept smiling.

“I’m a Runner. This is where I ended up. I have to leave.” Ronon knelt beside their packs and picked up a bowl Rodney hadn’t noticed before. It was full of some kind of reddish paste. Ronon already had some smeared onto his skin.

Lorne glanced at Rodney. He had no clue what a Runner was, other than the obvious, but Rodney suspected it meant something different in this galaxy.

“There are heavily-armed, well-trained men guarding the Stargate,” Rodney said.

Ronon’s brow furrowed. “Stargate?”

“Chappa’ai,” Lorne offered. When Ronon continued to look confused, Lorne tried, “Astria porta?”

What did Teyla call it? Rodney finally came out with, “Ring of the Ancestors.”

Ronon grunted. “I have to get through it.”

“If you let us talk to the men guarding the gate, we can get them to let you through,” Rodney offered.

Lorne shot him a look, mouthed, _What are you doing?_

Ronon narrowed his eyes. “Why should I trust you?”

Rodney gulped. “That’s a good question. Major, why should he trust us?”

“We don’t know if we can trust him,” Lorne said in a low voice. “If he’s a Wraith-worshipper -”

Ronon snarled. “I told you, I’m a Runner.”

Lorne lifted his chin. “We don’t know what that means. We’re out here searching for one of our comrades.”

Ronon was taken aback. “You’ve never heard of Runners?”

“We’re not from this galaxy,” Lorne said flatly.

“The Wraith are tracking me. They put a tracker in me, and they hunt me for sport. They kill any human who helps me. That’s why I need to leave. Now. Before they come again.” Ronon began applying another coat of the red paste to his arms. Some kind of primitive homemade sunblock.

“We’re fighting against the Wraith,” Rodney said. “We hate them just as much as you do.”

Ronon raised his eyebrows.

“Maybe not as much,” Rodney amended. “But we’re on the same side. If you just let us call the men at the gate, they’ll let you through it.”

Lorne broke in. “How long have you been running from them?”

“Seven years.” Ronon caught Lorne’s gaze for a moment, then looked away. “They attacked my planet. Scooped me up. Tried to feed on me. Failed. So they turned me into a Runner.”

That was horrifying. Seven years, on constant run from the Wraith. Rodney tried another winning smile. “If you let us explain to our men, they’ll let you go through the gate. They have no more desire to encounter Wraith than you do.”

And then Lorne said, “We have the best doctor in two galaxies on Atlantis. He can take your tracker out.”

It was Rodney’s turn to hiss, “What are you doing?”

But Ronon was eyeing Lorne speculatively, the way a cat eyed a bird it was about to pounce on.

Ronon said, “Prove it.”

“We need to talk to our people,” Lorne began.

Ronon drew his knife, advanced on Rodney.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Rodney protested. “No killing is necessary.”

Ronon knelt in front of Rodney, held out the knife.

Lorne lunged to his feet. “McKay!”

Ronon sliced through the bonds on Rodney’s wrists, rose up, and caught Lorne by the shoulders.

“McKay.” Ronon tested the name and seemed to find it wanting. “Go to your people. Summon your doctor here. Evan will stay with me.”

Rodney, halfway through untying his feet, paused. “But Major Lorne -”

“Go, McKay,” Lorne said in a low voice. He darted a glance at Ronon. “I’ll be fine. Tell Colonel Sheppard I’m fine, all right?”

Ronon threw Rodney his boots. “Go. Quickly. If you’re not back in four hours, I’m leaving. And I’m taking Evan with me.”

Rodney yanked on his boots. “It takes a while to get back to the gate. Give me one of the radios.”

“Go!” Ronon commanded.

Rodney fled.

*

Once the back-up platoon of marines arrived, John divvied them up into pairs, assigned them to fan out from the gate and do a regular grid sweep, report in every twenty minutes. He left Coughlin and Billick to watch the gate. He and Teyla would head to Rodney and Lorne’s last-known coordinates, two klicks south of the gate.

John let Teyla take point because she was more experienced at navigating Pegasus forests on various planets. He kept his weapon up and an ear out for anything, trying to calm his breathing so his heart would stop racing, because Rodney. He’d lost Rodney. The burn on the inside of his wrist had faded to a constant itch, but he had to ignore it, because he even though he’d lost Rodney he could find him. He just had to concentrate. He was a well-trained soldier. He and Rodney had been in greater peril before, when the Wraith were laying siege to Atlantis. When Rodney walked into that darkness. When John had had that bug attached to his neck.

A twig snapped.

On John’s nine.

He swung around, P-90 at the ready.

“Ford?”

A yellow blast from a Wraith stunner swallowed Teyla. She collapsed soundlessly.

John immediately moved to cover her, toggled his radio with one hand.

“I’ve got Wraith!”

“No, Major. It’s just me.”

John spun.

There was Aiden Ford, wielding a Wraith stunner. He looked exhausted, his uniform dirty, and one eye was black, iris and sclera and all, like some kind of horror B-movie demon.

Ford grinned, just like it was old times, like he didn’t have poison snaking through his veins.

“Ford.” John forced himself to take a deep breath. “Rodney and Lorne. Have you seen them?”

“Lorne - short guy? Blue eyes?” Ford nodded. “Yeah.”

“Do you have them?” John’s grip on his P-90 tightened.

Ford shook his head. “Some guy took them. Big guy. A Wraith was chasing him. I got a drop on him and the Wraith, but he got away.”

John relaxed a fraction. Ford sounded rational enough. “Is Teyla all right?” He started toward her, but Ford twitched his gun at him, and he came up short.

“She’ll be fine. She’ll wake up eventually. I just stunned her.”

“We can’t leave her there,” John said. “The radiation -”

“She’ll be fine. After all, she’s like me. Part Wraith. Stronger and faster than average people, right? Like superheroes.” Ford’s grin was manic around the edges. “C’mon, Major. I can show you where Rodney and the other guy are.”

John took a deep breath. Rodney. He had to find Rodney. And Lorne. “Okay. Can we just...cover her up?”

“Sure.” Ford kept his gun trained on John, approached Teyla and covered her body with fallen branches like she was some kind of corpse.

John swallowed hard. She’d be safe. She’d wake up. She’d radio for help.

Only when Ford was done, he stripped John of his radio and P-90 and began marching John, at gunpoint, through the forest.

“Everyone on Atlantis misses you,” John said, keeping his tone light and casual. The Mark on the inside of his wrist itched like mad. He could see, on the back of Ford’s neck, the Mark he usually kept covered. It had originally been shaped like a sparrow. Now it was twisted, warped, looked like it had been merged with a Wraith Mark.

“Yeah?” Ford raised his eyebrows.

John nodded. “As soon as I heard what Lorne and Parrish found, I scrambled a team to come look for you. Elizabeth was all for it, but Caldwell gave me trouble.”

“Caldwell?”

“Colonel Caldwell, commander of the Daedalus,” John said. “We re-established contact with Earth, remember? They got the messages we sent through the gate in the databurst Rodney figured out. Sent us back-up.”

“Bet he didn’t like getting lip from a lowly major.” Ford rolled his eyes.

“It’s lieutenant-colonel, now, actually,” John said.

“Really? Good for you!” Ford clapped him on the shoulder so hard he stumbled. The pride in his voice was genuine, though.

“Got to go back to Earth for the promotion ceremony,” John continued. If he kept Ford talking, Ford wouldn’t be thinking too hard, wouldn’t get twitchy, wouldn’t freak out and kill him. Ford would take him to where Lorne and Rodney were being held captive by...someone. “So, was it you who killed the Wraith, or the guy we’re looking for?”

“Me,” Ford said, the pride in his voice taking a darker tone. “Guy was pretty big, though. Like - half a head taller than you, easy. Built like a mountain. Moved fast, too, given his size. Didn’t recognize his clothes or his weapon. Some Pegasus native-type we’ve never met before.”

“Did he hurt them?”

“Nah. Just stunned ‘em. He carried ‘em both like they weighed nothing. I couldn’t get a good shot without hitting Rodney or - what’s his name? - Lorne.” Ford ambled along casually, like this was just a friendly stroll through the woods, occasionally telling John to turn right here or veer left there.

A man that big sounded dangerous. If the Wraith were hunting him, then he was a potential ally. Enemy of my enemy and all. John had never heard of a single Wraith hunting a single person before, and he didn’t have Teyla around to ask what she knew. He hoped she was all right. The marines would stumble across her in their sweep, he was sure. If that strange man hurt Rodney -

“Turn here,” Ford said.

John nodded, but he had the sneaking suspicion they’d passed this way once already. Ford was a good soldier, typically had good spatial awareness. Just how compromised was his judgment and reasoning? And how the hell was John supposed to find Rodney? The Mark on his wrist burned, and he forced himself to march on.

*

“This is a joke, right?” Carson looked from Rodney to Elizabeth and back again.

Elizabeth shook her head, expression grim. “I’m afraid not.”

“You want me to go to an alien planet and perform surgery on a man holding Major Lorne hostage?”

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Rodney said. “The Wraith could show up any minute.”

Carson glanced skyward in a silent prayer. “Oh, this gets better by the second. Have you found Lieutenant Ford yet?”

“No,” Rodney said. “John’s not answering his radio.”

“Come on,” Elizabeth said. “Pack up what you need.”

Carson abandoned his fiddling with charts for patients who weren’t even present and sighed. “I don’t think an operating room and a bloody army will fit through the gate.”

“Has anyone been able to get Teyla on the radio?” Rodney asked fifteen minutes later, carrying one of Carson’s metal cases of medical supplies. He’d been given a new tac vest, weapon, and radio just in case.

“Not that I’m aware of,” Elizabeth said. “Why?”

“I think we might need her cultural expertise,” Rodney said.

“What makes you say that?”

“The crazy man who has Major Lorne - he has a tattoo on the side of his neck,” Rodney said. “Apparently he was in the military on his home planet, and the tattoo is his rank designation.”

“And?”

“And it matches Major Lorne’s Mark,” Rodney said. “Different color, obviously.”

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “His Mark?”

“Yeah. The man stole all our gear, including Lorne’s little ninja scarf. He got all weird when he saw Lorne’s Mark.”

Alarm crossed Carson’s face. “Do you think Major Lorne is in extra danger, then?”

“I don’t know. I’d need Teyla,” Rodney said.

Chuck fired up the gate, and Rodney radioed ahead to the soldiers watching the gate. No one had heard from John, Teyla, or Ford, and none of them had heard from Lorne either. Rodney glanced over his shoulder at Elizabeth, who nodded.

“Bring our people home safe.”

“Will do,” Rodney said. Carson made a low sound of alarm, and Rodney pushed him through the gate.

Since John and Lorne were both incommunicado, military command had fallen to Coughlin, who was taking reports from the marines on their search. Coughlin ordered one team of sweepers, Reed and a marine named Winchester, to rendezvous with Rodney and Carson and act as back-up.

As soon as they approached the little clearing and cave where crazy Ronon was keeping Lorne hostage, Rodney fired up his radio.

“McKay for Lorne, do you copy?”

There was no answer, and then static, and then Lorne said, “I copy. Sit rep?”

“Dr. Beckett is here with me.”

“Send him in, alone and unarmed,” Lorne said carefully, and there was a murmur in the background. He was likely repeating what Ronon was telling him to say.

“Roger that.” Rodney nodded at Carson, who cast apprehensive looks at Reed and Winchester. They were both poised, aiming their rifles at the entrance to the clearing.

“Go,” Rodney hissed, and Carson started forward, carrying his metal case in one hand, his other hand raised in surrender.

Now all Rodney could do was sit and wait and, occasionally, toggle on his radio and query John and Teyla’s names into dead air. 

*

“Why are you stopping?” Ford demanded.

John sighed, rested his hands on his hips, shook out his legs. “Because we’re lost. We’ve been going in circles for hours. And I’m hot and tired.”

“You saying I don’t know where we’re going?”

“I’m saying we’ve passed that tree-and-boulder formation at least three times.” John pointed.

Ford threw up his free hand. “So that’s it? You just give up?”

“I think we should pause and rethink our strategy,” John said.

“That’s what you do, isn’t it?” Ford was starting to breathe faster. Would he hyperventilate? That could be helpful. “You just give up on your friends when they need you most.”

“We never gave up on you,” John snapped.

Ford’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not talking about me, I’m talking about Teyla and Rodney.”

“I’m not the one who left Teyla back wherever you left her,” John said. He froze when Ford twitched his rifle up to aim at his chest.

“Teyla’s part Wraith, just like me. So why is it you trust her more than me, huh? Is it because she’s hot? You wanna hit that?”

The Mark on the inside of John’s wrist burned cold at the notion. “Don’t talk about her like that,” John snapped. “She’s a member of my team, same as you. And I trust you. You’re a good soldier. But right now, you’re not thinking straight. Come back to Atlantis with me, and Beckett can look you over.”

“Why should I trust you if you don’t trust me?”

John raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Come on, Aiden. Beckett can probably fix you up so you get to keep your new superpowers.”

“You think?” Ford asked, brightening.

John was on him in a flash. He heard the sharp report of the P-90, but his instincts took over, and they tussled, limbs tangling, planting elbows and fists and knees. John came out of the encounter with Ford’s pistol, and he aimed it at Ford, unwavering.

“Drop your weapon,” John snapped. “Now come on. We’re going this way.”

Ford raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, but there was a dangerous glint in his eye, in the amused upturn of his mouth. He grabbed his rifle and fired - into the air, but the sound was enough to startle John, and Ford took off running through the trees.

John took off after him.

*

Rodney toggled his radio. “Teyla, do you copy?”

Gunfire exploded nearby.

Winchester swore and swung around, rifle at the ready, but Reed remained poised to fire at the cave if necessary.

“What was that?” Rodney demanded.

“Dammit, Ford, stop!”

Rodney was on his feet, pistol at the ready. That was John’s voice. And he had Ford.

Carson’s voice crackled over the radio. “What was that?”

Rodney started toward where he thought he’d heard the voice come from. He toggled his radio to reply. “I think it’s John and Ford.”

“Ronon’s out cold. I think the trauma of the surgery made him pass out despite his refusal to undergo sedation,” Carson said.

“McKay, stay here,” Winchester snapped, moving toward the same break in the trees where Rodney was headed.

Lorne’s voice came over the radio, and Rodney had never been so glad. “I’m on my way. Winchester, Reed, do not let McKay engage in combat.” He came wobbling out of the little clearing, barefoot but carrying his P-90, and started picking his way through the undergrowth.

“John!” Rodney shouted.

It was Ford who responded. “McKay? Is that you?”

Rodney broke through the trees just as Winchester and Lorne caught up to him. Ford, dirty and bedraggled and wild-eyed, was standing in the middle of a worn path, armed with a P-90. John was behind him, armed with a pistol. He was aiming at Ford.

Rodney brought his pistol up automatically. “What’s going on?”

“Rodney.” John sounded unaccountably relieved.

And then voices broke over the radio. Coughlin and Billick, at the gate.

“We have Wraith darts incoming!”

Rodney heard the sound of their engines a moment later.

Winchester shouted for everyone to take cover, leaped at Lorne and dragged him down, but not before Lorne loosed a couple of shots. One caught Ford in the shoulder, and he snarled, opened fire.

“You’re never getting to the gate,” John shouted, ducking behind a tree.

Rodney hit the ground, terror roaring in his ears.

“Don’t have to,” Ford said, and turned, ran, threw himself into the column of light beneath the Wraith dart, and was scooped up.

Reed was on his radio immediately, telling the marines scattered between them and the gate to try to take the dart down, that it had scooped up Ford, and there was distant gunfire.

“Has anyone seen Teyla?” Rodney asked amid the flurry of exchanges between the marines trying to take down the darts.

There was a roar of fury, and Rodney heard Carson say, “No, wait, you need to rest and recover!”

Rodney lifted his head in time to see Winchester get tossed aside like a ragdoll. Crazy Ronon hauled Lorne to his feet, wrapped an arm around his waist, and raised his scary blaster shotgun at Carson when Carson tried to approach.

The sound of dart engines faded, and then Coughlin came on the radio.

“We took down one, sir, but the rest escaped through the gate. We’re not sure if it was the one that got Ford.”

There was an explosive boom in the distance, and Rodney flinched.

In the ensuing silence that followed, Rodney could hear his heart thudding in his ears.

And then, blessedly, Teyla’s voice came over the radio. “What happened? Why am I covered with leaves? John? Rodney?”

“We’ll be right there, Teyla,” Reed said.

Rodney cleared his throat. “In the meantime, can you give us a crash course on Soul Marks in Pegasus and, um - Hey! Ronon! What planet are you from?”

“Sateda,” Ronon said, and snarled at Winchester when Winchester tried to approach

“Sateda,” Rodney said. Before he could say more, John was at his side, gripping his shoulder too tightly.

“Are you all right?” John asked in a low voice.

Rodney was a little intimidated by the intensity in John’s gaze. “I’m fine.”

“Please,” Carson was saying to Ronon in the background. “You really ought to rest -”

John squeezed Rodney’s shoulder one last time, then stepped back. He gestured to Winchester, who abandoned his attempts to approach Ronon and Lorne and trotted over, gave John his radio.

John accepted it and fired it up. “Teyla, so glad you’re all right. I’m a little embarrassed to admit that Ford got the drop on us. Send up a flare, and the marines will pick you up.”

“Thank you, John. I will send up a flare right away. Rodney, why do you inquire after Sateda?”

“Anthropology lecture later,” John said. “You all right, Major?”

“Fine, sir,” Lorne said. He looked exhausted and was also straining as far away from Ronon as possible.

“Look, what’s your name?” John asked.

“Ronon Dex.”

“Ronon, I’m Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard. You have one of my men. I need him back. I’d like to work out a peaceful exchange arrangement, but I’d rather not do it on a planet where the Wraith know we’ve been. So how about we all go back to Atlantis and talk about this like adults, okay?”

“I removed the tracker from your body,” Carson said, “but you really ought to rest, and I’d like to check your wound over in a more sterile environment.”

Rodney was usually annoyed by Carson’s big-eyed, cajoling ways, but this time he was grateful, because Ronon studied Carson for a long moment, then nodded.

“Evan stays with me,” Ronon said, and John nodded.

“Okay. That’s fine. Let’s go back to the gate, shall we?” John fell into step beside Rodney, letting the marines take over the security formation around Ronon and the hapless, barefoot Lorne. Winchester doubled back to grab Lorne and Rodney’s gear, and by the time they reached the jumper at the gate, Teyla was waiting for them, looking none the worse for the wear, if with a few leaves in her hair.

*

Every time John glanced at Rodney and Rodney was okay, was whole and safe and unharmed, the Mark on the inside of John’s wrist flared with pleasant warmth. John wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed that Rodney couldn't tell how glad John was that he was unhurt by his brief captivity. Rodney was oddly riveted by Teyla’s explanation about how the people of Sateda viewed Soul Marks. Given the fierce reputation of their soldiers and the sobering history of Runners (and the fact that Ronon had survived for seven years as a Runner said something formidable about his combat skills and knowledge of Wraith tactics), the highly romanticized Satedan notion of Soul Marks was confusing.

The gist of it was that few people on Sateda had Marks. Those who did tended to stick together, seeing the Marks as a sign of divine favor on a union. Matching Marks were basically unheard of, though some Satedan epic poems spoke of heroes and princesses who had matching Marks.

“So basically they subscribe to the old notions of Marks,” Elizabeth said finally.

She, John, Rodney, Teyla, and Carson were standing outside of the observation room where Ronon was under quarantine. He'd been very reluctant to be parted from Major Lorne, who had fled to the locker rooms as soon as possible and emerged in a clean uniform, a new scarf firmly in place and covering him from chin to collar.

His efforts were too late, though. The story had spread through the expedition like wildfire. Matching Marks in the Pegasus Galaxy. It was the first time they’d encountered the issue.

The question of Mark compatibility had been null and void so long as the expedition was a one-way trip. Now that contact was established with Earth, the rules were different, changed. Relationships forged in the fire of desperation were being reexamined and found wanting. John felt guilty for how pleased he was when he overheard some of the female scientists talking about how heartbroken Kusanagi was now that Rodney was refusing her advances.

“They don’t have matching Marks, though,” Carson pointed out. “Lorne has a Mark, and Ronon has a tattoo.”

“You have to admit,” Elizabeth said, “that Lorne’s Rare Mark matching one of Ronon’s tattoos, including placement, is a huge coincidence. I can see how someone raised with Ronon’s beliefs would think some kind of divine intervention was involved.”

“Matching Compatibility Marks don’t equate actual guaranteed compatibility, though.” Rodney studied Ronon like he was a particularly fascinating specimen under a microscope.

It was Kate Heightmeyer, coming to stand beside John, who said, “It’s not uncommon for people with Rare Mark Types to feel a greater sense of...determination to make it work when they finally do find each other.”

John thought of the look on Nancy’s face when he first showed her his Mark and winced internally.

“Whatever modernist views people have about Marks, the romanticism surrounding Rare Marks has persisted.” Heightmeyer folded her arms and watched Ronon closely.

John resisted the urge to rub at his wrist. His romanticism toward Rodney had preceded his Mark.

“I’ve often seen couples with matching Rare Types fail to endure because they can’t handle the pressure of it all - the societal pressure to be something grand and romantic,” Heightmeyer continued. “The lightning and the drama prove to be too much.”

“You think it’s that way for Major Lorne?” John asked.

“From what I know of Evan,” Heightmeyer said, “he’s a very private man, prefers to keep himself to himself and get his job done. I’m sure all of this speculation about his private life is very upsetting.”

Elizabeth nodded at Ronon, who was pacing the confines of the isolation room. He was always in motion. He’d done a series of military-style calisthenics first, run some laps, did some stretches, and now he was just pacing.

“What do you make of him?” Elizabeth asked.

“He’s very resilient,” Heightmeyer said. “I don’t know enough about him personally or his culture to be sure, but he doesn’t present with any symptoms of psychopathology. He’s defensive, guarded, and most definitely suffering from trauma, if not outright PTSD. It will take him a long time to trust that he’s safe, that the people around him are safe if he stops running and accepts help from them, and being without real human contact for seven years has undoubtedly damaged him, but I do believe he can be healed.”

“He was going to keep Major Lorne,” Rodney said. “Threatened to take him on the run if I didn’t make it back with Carson in time.”

John closed his eyes for a moment, immensely grateful that it wasn’t Rodney who’d had a Mark that matched one of Ronon’s tattoos.

“That speaks to how important the concept of Marks and matches are to him.” Heightmeyer gazed at Ronon thoughtfully. “He shunned all human contact out of fear that the Wraith would harm any human who came into contact with him, but he was willing to subject Evan to that risk in order to keep him close.”

“He’s finally stopped asking for Major Lorne.” Elizabeth tracked Ronon with her gaze as he paced back and forth in front of the window.

“Asking with words, you mean,” John said. At first Ronon had asked, like clockwork, every fifteen minutes, _Where’s Evan?_

He kept throwing pointed looks at the glass that he knew was a window despite its mirrored sheen, like clockwork, every fifteen minutes.

“What harm would it do, to allow Major Lorne to keep Ronon company?” Elizabeth asked.

“I think it could be beneficial to Ronon, allow him to slowly acclimate himself to human contact again.” Heightmeyer frowned thoughtfully. “Of course, if Major Lorne is uncomfortable with Ronon, that tension will affect Ronon. And if Major Lorne doesn’t reciprocate Ronon’s...devotion, leading him on would be cruel.”

“Ronon has indicated he is grateful for our help, but he intends to move on, now that he knows Sateda is no more.” Teyla had insisted on being present when Elizabeth and Rodney presented Ronon with MALP footage from the gate address he’d provided to them, the address for Sateda.

“Does he?” Rodney asked. “Has he somehow deluded himself into thinking Major Lorne will just...go with him?”

Teyla cast John a reproving look. “Ronon may still be under the impression that he is able to...bargain for Major Lorne.”

John had the good grace to wince. “I didn’t want Ronon to flip out and kill Lorne, all right? I didn’t know how he felt about Lorne at the time, and I wanted everyone to make it back here in one piece.”

“Perhaps,” Elizabeth said, “someone should ask Major Lorne what he thinks.” She pinned John a look, arched an eyebrow pointedly.

John wasn’t about to have a talk with Lorne about the power of matching Marks. “I think the person most equipped to handle that kind of conversation is Dr. Heightmeyer.”

“Kate?” Elizabeth asked.

Heightmeyer nodded. “I’d be glad to speak with him about his feelings on the matter.”

John hated talking about feelings. He barely understood his own feelings about Mark Types and matching Marks. “Thanks for that. I’ll radio for him.”

But Heightmeyer shook her head. “I’ve got this, Colonel Sheppard. Excuse me.” And she ducked out of the observation bay.

“Well,” Rodney said, “as fascinating as that all was, there’s still work to do. I’ll be in the lab if you need me. Thanks for the lesson on culture, Teyla.” And he walked away, purpose marking his stride.

John had work to do, too. “Weir?” he asked Elizabeth, using her last name as a sign of deference.

“Go, John,” she said. “Thank you for helping get everyone home.”

“It was a team effort,” John said. “I have good men and women at my back.” He smiled at Teyla for emphasis, and then he headed back to the office that he shared with, well, Lorne, to finish the final draft of his AAR and tackle some more paperwork. The fact that said paperwork was digital instead of hard copy didn’t make it any less tedious.

Lorne appeared in the doorway ten minutes later, datapad under his arm. “Sir.”

John had finally broken him of saluting whenever they came into contact. “Major?”

“Permission to spend time with our, er, guest? Dr. Heightmeyer thinks it will help - keep him calm.” Lorne hefted his datapad. “I’ll be getting work done, of course.”

“You always get your work done,” John said. “If you’re comfortable acceding to Heightmeyer’s request, that’s fine.”

Lorne opened his mouth to speak, paused.

John raised his eyebrows. “ _Are_ you comfortable acceding to Heightmeyer’s request?”

“I - for now, sir.” Lorne sighed. “Permission to speak freely?”

“Of course, Major.” John set down his datapad stylus and fixed his attention on his 2IC.

“Matching Marks was never an option for me before, so I never really thought about it. And now - he doesn’t even have a Mark. It’s just his tattoo.” Lorne lifted a hand to his scarf absently. “But I - it’s the closest I’ve ever come to even a similar Mark.”

“Everyone on the expedition has rare Mark Types,” John said.

“So I hear. I’d just - resigned myself to a lifetime of failed relationships.” Lorne scrubbed a hand over his face. “People say Marks don’t have to matter, but they kind of do.”

They did - just not usually in the way people thought. John thought of that medical file he’d found in his father’s office. And he thought of Chaya, who had a permanent personal Mark but whose Mark would, she said, shift to form a merged Mark with whoever she was in love with at any given moment. When she’d kissed John the first time, her Mark had turned blurry and indistinct, because his was still forming to match Rodney’s, and he’d thought, if he couldn’t have Rodney, he could at least have something, and then Chaya had been an Ancient and -

“I’m sorry, sir.” Lorne dipped his chin respectfully. “I’ll go get started on my paperwork.”

John watched him go and wondered what Rodney would do, if he found out John’s Mark matched his.

Over the next few days, John kept track of Lorne’s progress with Ronon, mostly by keeping an ear out in the cafeteria for gossip. Lorne had asked Zelenka to put some video games on his laptop for Ronon to play while he worked, but Ronon wasn’t interested. Lorne had borrowed some movies from the base Archivist (a new feature of the expedition, thanks to renewed communication with Earth, whose sole function seemed to be distributing pirated media for everyone’s entertainment), but Ronon couldn’t sit still long enough to watch one. The thing that finally worked was a paper and pen. Ronon apparently liked to draw and was even pretty good at it, had done an ink sketch of Lorne while Lorne was doing his paperwork. Lorne was keeping up on his duties just fine, and once Ronon was allowed out of quarantine, he followed Lorne around the base, offering to hold things for him or carry things for him and even getting food for him in the commissary. Everyone was fascinated by this very old-fashioned, almost sweet courtship going on, and Lorne was doing his best to keep his head up and carry out his duties as normal, as if he didn’t have a giant of a man as his shadow.

Some of the snickering and cooing ended when Lorne let Ronon have at a room full of marines for weekly hand-to-hand training and Ronon tossed them around like they were rag dolls.

As 2IC, Lorne was leader of his own gate team - Stevens his XO, with Walker, Coughlin, and Reed - and he had gate missions to go on. John was interested in having Ronon on a gate team, but there was no way he and Lorne could be on the same gate team, whatever feelings Lorne did or didn’t have for Ronon. John was willing to give Ronon a test run, so when Teyla suggested doing recon on a planet called Thenora, whose inhabitants had traded with the Athosians in the past, John asked Elizabeth if it was okay for Ronon to tag along.

Ronon refused all the military gear they offered him, opting to take just his blaster shotgun thing. Given that he’d survived seven years against the Wraith with just that for his weapon, John saw no reason to foist unwanted gear on him, and through the gate they went.

John was glad to note that in the field, Ronon respected Lorne’s skill as a soldier, didn’t try to smother him or protect him any more than the other men on Lorne’s team. Ronon simply added himself to the formation Lorne’s men had taken up, and he didn’t offer to carry the rocket launcher Lorne was armed with. But John could see the way Ronon was hyperaware of Lorne’s position at any moment, and then he wondered if people could see how he was that way about Rodney, so when Cadman offered to escort Carson and Rodney off to explore something science-y, John ignored his gut reaction to say no, keep Rodney close, and set them free.

He was regretting it fiercely when the dart came through the gate.

He was regretting it even more, the Mark on the inside of his wrist burning like he’d been hit with an open flame, when he was standing over the dead Wraith pilot, the downed dart a wreck.

When Zelenka showed him the datapad with two unidentifiable life signs on it and asked him to choose, John’s heart beat so fast he was afraid it was going to come out of his chest. He swallowed down his panic, kept his expression calm, and picked one at random. He had a lot of practice at not appearing overly concerned about Rodney. He and Rodney were in danger all the time. Everything would work out. It had to.

Naturally, it was Cadman who came out of the dart. And then she fainted.

*

Rodney came awake slowly, blinking. Everyone was staring at him - Carson, Elizabeth, Teyla, John, Ronon, and Lorne.  
  
“How are you feeling?” Carson asked, and he sounded very solicitous and gentle.  
  
“I’m fine,” Cadman said, and Rodney craned his neck, turned to look. The cots on either side of him were empty, though.  
  
“Bit of a headache,” Cadman continued, and Rodney had the dawning sense that something was very wrong.  
  
“Cadman,” he said.  
  
“Who said that?” she asked.  
  
“Said what?” Elizabeth was looking at Rodney very strangely.  
  
“Someone said my name. It sounded like - Dr. McKay.”  
  
Elizabeth cast Carson a look, and he moved closer to Rodney, shined a penlight in his eyes.  
  
“Not helping,” Rodney said.  
  
“Are you still hearing Rodney?” Carson asked.  
  
“I’m right here,” Rodney said. He was right in front of Carson. “Can’t you see me, you oversized leprechaun?”  
  
“Leprechauns are Irish, not Scottish,” Cadman said.  
  
John and Teyla raised their eyebrows.  
  
“No one said they weren’t,” John said. “Lieutenant, are you sure you’re all right?”  
  
“It’s me, Rodney!”  
  
But John didn’t answer.  
  
“Cadman,” Rodney said, “look at your hands.”  
  
And Rodney was looking at his hands - only they weren’t his hands. Sure, he felt like he was looking at his hands, but those were not his hands. They were definitely lady hands.  
  
“Lieutenant, there’s nothing wrong with your hands,” Carson said.  
  
“Um...I think Dr. McKay is stuck in my head,” Cadman said.  
  
Everyone blinked at Rodney. And Cadman.  
  
“Come again?” Carson asked.  
  
Elizabeth tapped her radio. “Zelenka, come to the infirmary immediately.”  
  
It took Rodney carefully reciting some things in French (which Cadman didn’t speak) and also some physics theories (Cadman was a chemist and an explosives expert) before anyone believed Cadman that yes, Rodney was in her head alongside her. Since there was nothing physically wrong with Cadman, Carson released her from the infirmary, but told her to report back the moment she felt awry. Cadman got dressed (she didn’t even warn Rodney she was going to do it, and he saw more of her than he was comfortable with, attractive though she was), and then she wanted, of all things, to go for a run.  
  
“It helps me relax,” she said.  
  
“Hello, you need to go to the lab,” Rodney said. She couldn’t hear his thoughts, could only hear what he directed at her deliberately. “If you don’t want me stuck in here forever, we need to figure this out.”  
  
“Look, I just got sucked into a Wraith dart and then landed with you in my skull. Give me a moment to adjust, all right?” Cadman hissed. A passing marine cast her a look, and she gestured to her radio, flashed him a smile, and he nodded and moved on.  
  
Rodney could feel her body moving like it was his own, only everything was muffled, like his entire existence was wrapped in cotton wool. They were heading through the hallway at a decent clip, on the way to Cadman’s quarters so she could change into her running gear.  
  
No. This was unacceptable. Rodney had to get out. He surged forward, pressing with his entire being and - there! He’d broken through the cotton. He was in control of the body. It had a messed-up center of gravity, and his first few steps were stumbling, but then he spun around and made for the lab.  
  
“Dammit, McKay, what the hell are you doing?”  
  
It sounded like Cadman was standing right behind him, yelling at him.  
  
“I’m going to fix this,” Rodney said.  
  
“Give me back my body!”  
  
“The sooner I’m out of here, the sooner you can have it all to yourself!”  
  
Rodney initiated the lock on the lab and swept in.  
  
Zelenka, John, and Elizabeth were gathered around a melted and twisted grey metallic box that Rodney knew was important to the Wraith’s culling beam technology.  
  
“Oh, nice work,” Rodney said.  
  
The three of them turned to look at him.  
  
“Lieutenant?” John asked, narrowing his eyes.  
  
“She’s in the back seat. I’m driving.” Rodney prowled closer to the busted power transformer.  
  
“We were running out of power,” Zelenka said. “I hardly knew anything about the machine. Who would have thought this could be one of the side effects?”  
  
“Rodney, should you be doing that?” Elizabeth asked. “Is it...safe for you to be in control?”  
  
“No!” Cadman shouted.  
  
“I’m fine, I’m not hurting you,” Rodney snapped.  
  
Elizabeth blinked at her.  
  
“Talking to Cadman,” Rodney said. He rounded on Zelenka. “So instead of waiting to understand what you were doing, you just mashed on the keyboard and hoped something would happen?”  
  
“You’re alive, aren’t you?” Zelenka said, raising his eyebrows, and oh, was he going to laugh at Rodney?  
  
“I don’t know if being in a woman’s body counts as alive,” Rodney said sharply, and Elizabeth raised her eyebrows, and several other women turned to look at him.  
  
“For me,” Rodney amended hastily. He could feel Cadman tugging to get back into control, but he fended her off.  
  
Finally, she gave up. “Ask him if he knows how to fix it.”  
  
“He doesn’t know how to fix it,” Rodney said.  
  
The amusement vanished from Zelenka’s expression.  
  
“Should we call Beckett?” John asked. “Should she have been let out of the infirmary?”  
  
“I’m fine,” Rodney said. “As fine as I can be, under the circumstances. Cadman is fine, too. We’ll both be much better when I’m back in my own body, which I would be if Fumbles McStupid over here hadn’t -”  
  
Zelenka threw his hands up. “Yes, yes! I made a mistake trying to save your life. Now, do you want to berate me some more, or do you want to fix it?”  
  
“Rodney,” Cadman said.  
  
“Not now.” Rodney reached for his datapad.  
  
“Rodney.”  
  
“Busy here.”  
  
“Rodney!”  
  
“What?”  
  
Silence was the answer.  
  
Rodney straightened up, alarmed. Everyone was staring at him, but he didn’t care. “Cadman? Are you there?”  
  
There was a sudden wrenching, and Rodney was detached from the body once more, wrapped not just in cotton but also swaddled in metaphysical bubble wrap. He scrambled to break through, but he was trapped, and it was harder to see, harder to feel.  
  
He could sense Cadman exulting. “Hah! Back in the driver’s seat. I’m gonna go for a run. You’re a smart guy, Zelenka. I know you got this. See ya!”  
  
She started to trot for the door, Rodney kicking and screaming and protesting, but Elizabeth brought her up short.  
  
“Not so fast, Lieutenant. I want you - and Rodney - to go meet with Heightmeyer. Talk this over. Because as difficult as co-existing with Rodney may be, and as brilliant as Zelenka may be, Rodney’s expertise is vital to solving this problem. I need you two to work together.”  
  
“Yes ma’am,” Cadman said, and turned to go.  
  
“Lieutenant,” John said.  
  
She paused once more, straightened up instinctively for her commanding officer. “Sir.”  
  
John moved so he was looking at Cadman head on. Rodney couldn’t quite read his expression.  
  
“Be careful with him, all right? I need him. For my gate team. And he’s vital to Atlantis, understand?”  
  
“Yes, sir,” Cadman said. She patted herself on the stomach, which was just unnerving. “I’ll keep him safe and sound. Who knows, maybe some regular exercise and healthy eating will get him in the habit for when he gets his own body back.” She saluted John - which he winced at - and then headed for her quarters.  
  
“Hey!” Rodney protested. “Aren’t we going to see Heightmeyer?”  
  
“We will. After we go for a run.”

*

Rodney stuck inside Cadman’s body was just bizarre. That kind of thing couldn’t be natural. After Cadman was released from the infirmary, John had made a beeline for his laptop and fired off an email to the SGC to go out in the next weekly databurst. Surely they had some kind of experience with this, body-swapping or multiple people in a single body or something. They had to have a solution for rescuing Rodney, even if they had little experience with Wraith technology. Two people crammed into one body couldn’t be a good thing. Even when it wasn’t two full consciousnesses, too many people in one head was dangerous, right? Unhealthy. Even if Rodney was sane and Cadman was sane, together they were basically mentally ill. And there was no guarantee as to how long they’d stay sane.  
  
“Fix this,” John said to Zelenka. He would have said more, but then Lorne paged him over the radio.  
  
He needed to talk. About Ronon.  
  
John was halfway to the office he shared with Lorne (officially the ‘military command’ office but really just a couple of desks crammed into what was probably once a storage closet) when his wrist burned. Fiercely. He ducked into an alcove and tore off his wristband and stared, horrified, as the Mark on his skin shifted, moved, changed. No. He loved Rodney. He did. He couldn’t say anything, because chain of command, and Rodney was interested in other people, but -  
  
And then he realized. Marks were biological, not metaphysical. And Rodney was in Cadman’s body.  
  
Apparently Cadman’s Mark was -  
  
A sparrow. Like Ford’s had been.  
  
John closed his eyes. What did this mean? Was Rodney trapped inside Cadman forever? The person who would know best was Carson. Did John dare tell Carson about his Mark, what it could do, and worse, who it matched?  
  
Wincing, John tugged his wristband back on and continued to the office. Lorne was at his desk, plodding through his paperwork. Surprisingly, Ronon was absent.  
  
“Major,” John said. He studied Lorne’s expression, then reached out and initiated the door lock, letting it close so they could have some privacy.  
  
“Sir.” Lorne set down his stylus and rose up. At least he didn’t salute.  
  
“Please, have a seat.” John perched on the edge of his desk, arms folded across his chest. “What did you want to talk to me about? Ronon’s kind of a broad subject.”  
  
The pun was unintentional, but the corner of Lorne’s mouth curved upward. He had dimples.  
  
“He says he’d be willing to stay with the expedition,” Lorne said. “Join a gate team. Obviously we couldn’t be on the same gate team. Would you be all right with that?”  
  
“That question is better addressed to Elizabeth,” John said, and Lorne’s expression shuttered. John uncrossed his arms, shook out his limbs. “Permission to speak freely, Major?”  
  
Lorne blinked. “Sir?”  
  
John smiled. “I get the sense that you’ve had discussions about Ronon staying not because he wants to help us kick some Wraith ass - and at this point we’re the best this galaxy has at even coming close to that - but because he wants to stay with you.”  
  
“He does.”  
  
“Do you want him to stay with you?”  
  
Lorne blushed and looked away. “I - it’s very flattering. All the attention. For a guy who likes to smash Wraith skulls for fun, he can be - romantic. In kind of the old school way, you know? If this were high school in the fifties, he’d have given me his letter jacket and his class ring. It’s kind of intense, too.” He took a deep breath. “I’m still kinda topsy-turvy about it all. I’m a career soldier. I’m a geophysicist. I came out here to fight aliens and protect scientists. Not -”  
  
“Fall in love?”  
  
Lorne’s eyes went wide. “No! I mean...I don’t know. It’s all so new and strange. He doesn’t even have a Mark. We’re not technically a match. I don’t want to put all my eggs in one basket, as it were. But I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t give it a try.”  
  
John studied him. For all that Lorne tried to be professional and calm no matter what, John could see that he was pretty worked up over this, and not necessarily in a bad way. As long as Lorne was a willing participant in whatever Ronon had going on, John was okay with Lorne pursuing it - so long as it didn’t interfere with his duties. Given what he’d observed of Ronon off-world, John didn’t think it would be a problem.  
  
“All right.” John grinned. “I want Ronon for my gate team. Let me go pitch it to Elizabeth.”  
  
The way Lorne’s face lit up told John he’d made the right decision. John fired off a sloppy salute - and Lorne looked horrified for a moment - before he left the office. He was halfway to Ops when Zelenka patched him over the radio.  
  
“Come to the hangar. We may have a solution.”  
  
When John arrived in the hangar, Cadman, Elizabeth, Zelenka, and Carson were all gathered around. Zelenka explained something about power levels and conversions that John might have understood if he’d paid closer attention. Instead he was watching Cadman, who seemed like her usual cheery self. Her hair was damp, like she’d had a shower (she was on stand-down till the ‘issue’ with Rodney was resolved), and she was peering intently at the two white mice someone had rounded up and put in the plastic tub.  
  
Everyone instinctively took a step back when Zelenka reached for the machine. He turned it on, pressed something on his laptop, and a culling beam scooped up the two mice. Zelenka turned his laptop around so they could see two indistinguishable life signs. John remembered looking at just that image and making the wrong choice. The Mark on the inside of his wrist burned, and he felt betrayed. Shouldn’t he have been able to tell which was Rodney?  
  
Of course, if Rodney had come out, Cadman would probably have been in his head, and they’d be in basically the same situation.  
  
“And now, we rescue them.”  
  
Zelenka pressed another button on his laptop, and the culling beam flared.  
  
Two black, charred mice appeared in the plastic tub.  
  
John swallowed down his horror. “I’m not a scientist, but weren’t those mice a different color?”  
  
Zelenka sighed. “I need to make some adjustments.”  
  
Carson and Elizabeth were pale.  
  
“See,” Cadman snapped, “I told you, we should have come here instead of going for a run.”  
  
John stared at her. “Lieutenant?”  
  
“Not her, me,” she said, and John realized, Rodney.  
  
“I thought you wanted to see Heightmeyer,” she said, and was that Cadman? She really did sound insane.  
  
“I did want to see Heightmeyer, right away, instead of going for a run, and she told us to cooperate. If you’d come here, I could have walked you through the explanation for how to repair this -” ‘Rodney’ began.  
  
Cadman tossed her head. “You really need to learn to relax and trust Zelenka. He’s a smart guy.”  
  
Zelenka looked cautiously pleased, but also like he thought Cadman would turn into a serial killer at a moment’s notice.  
  
“Keep working on it, Radek.” Elizabeth patted his shoulder.  
  
“We’re going to the gym,” Cadman said, waving, and she left the hangar.  
  
“That’s never going to be not strange.” Carson shook his head, looking dazed.  
  
“I’m sure Zelenka has it under control.” John nodded tightly at him, then went to find Ronon and have a chat with him about joining Atlantis and a gate team. Once he talked to Ronon, he’d talk to Elizabeth. Ronon would be a huge addition to John’s gate team, now that he was technically down to only three members. Ronon was fast and strong, knew Wraith tactics. He’d be a huge help in protecting Rodney.  
  
John really needed to stop thinking about Rodney, because he’d drive himself crazy.

*

Cadman would let Rodney out to talk occasionally, but she kept in firm physical control. She worked out in the gym (which necessitated another shower - how often did women shower?), and she took a stroll around Atlantis, checked in with some of the other marines who weren’t on duty. She wrote an email home to her parents, she read, she listened to some music, she ate food. It was basically her designated Sunday. And it would be until Rodney was out of her head. Which, when she wasn’t talking to him, was a pretty boring place. She did consent to letting him dictate some proposed solutions and typing them up and sending them in an email to Zelenka. His response was _Tried all those, didn’t work_. And now - now Rodney didn’t know what to do.  
  
And then Katie Brown - who Rodney had been meaning to ask out for some time now - sat with Cadman in the commissary.  
  
“You coming to ladies’ poker night?”  
  
Cadman pondered for a frustratingly long moment. Rodney wanted to go. He could learn so much about the women on Atlantis. They probably had lots of inside information about who was seeing who, and also he could get some more information about how best to woo Katie.  
  
“Nah, not tonight,” Cadman said. “I’m pretty beat. Running around on a planet, having someone else knock around in my head - it’s kind of exhausting. I think I’ll turn in early.”  
  
Katie nodded sympathetically. “I’ll bet. I’m sure Zelenka will fix you soon.” She patted Cadman’s hand and then took her tray back to the kitchen.  
  
And Rodney knew what he had to do.  
  
Wait till Cadman slept. Then he could take full control of her body.  
  
So he bided his time, kept quiet, entertained himself by calculating the Fibonacci sequence, and finally Cadman went to bed.  
  
Rodney waited for her to slide fully into sleep, felt the cottony muffled sense around him fade and dissolve until - there. Body was his. Cadman slept in the buff, which was just awkward, so he dressed her quickly and carefully. He could play poker, and then he could go to the lab and the hangar, work on the problem some more. Perfect.  
  
He stepped into the hallway in the marine living quarters and realized - he had no idea where Ladies Poker Night even took place.  
  
No matter. Another female marine smiled at him and said, “Hey, I heard you were sitting this one out. You coming after all?”  
  
“Yes! Absolutely.”  
  
The marine blinked at him, and he realized Cadman probably didn’t talk like he did, even if he was using her voice, so he corrected himself. “I mean, yeah, totally.” Should he twirl his hair around his finger? Women did that, right? On TV.  
  
“Awesome. Let’s go show those scientists what for. Hoo-rah!” The marine punched Rodney in the shoulder (ow!) and took off down the corridor.  
  
Rodney followed, trying to look as calm and Cadman-like as possible.  
  
Ladies’ Poker Night in Atlantis took place in the conference room in Ops. There was beer, snacks - some kind of homemade Athosian substitute for pretzels - cards, and chips. Rodney (as Cadman), Katie Brown, the female marine (Katie called her Dusty), Amelia from Control, and the German scientist from Engineering (Heidi, according to Amelia) were seated at one end of the conference table with Marie for their dealer. The way she handled cards made Rodney pretty nervous. He’d only ever seen people deal like that in casinos before.  
  
“Tonight’s game is Hold ‘Em,” Marie said. “Left of the dealer begins.”  
  
“So, Laura,” Katie said, and it took Rodney a moment to realize she was talking to him, “how are you doing? With Rodney in there and all?”  
  
“Once he settled down he wasn’t so bad,” Rodney said, keeping his tone bright and chipper. “He’s asleep right now, though, so it’s just me.”  
  
Heidi snorted. “Rodney settled down? Really? You know if your situations were reversed, he’d never let you see the light of day, and he’d be in the lab right now, redoing all of our hard work.”  
  
“You call him Rodney?” Dusty asked. She studied her cards shrewdly.  
  
“That’s his name, isn’t it?” Katie said.  
  
“He never calls people by their first names.” Heidi rolled her eyes.  
  
“He’s probably been hanging around Sheppard too much, that he calls everyone by their last names,” Amelia said.  
  
Heidi snorted again. “Please. Rodney can barely remember anyone’s name but his own.”  
  
Rodney said, “I’m sure he doesn’t mean to be rude. He probably has a lot on his mind at any given time.” Talking about himself in the third person was definitely weird, but he wasn’t that bad. Was he?  
  
“Like he’s the only scientist on Atlantis,” Dusty said.  
  
Before Rodney could defend himself further, Marie started the round of betting. Rodney knew that poker wasn’t nearly as much about psychology and poker faces as it was about playing the odds. He wasn’t nearly as good at math as John, but he was good enough at probabilities and statistics that he knew when to call and when to fold.  
  
So fold he did.  
  
“Don’t go picking on McKay too much,” Amelia said. “Katie wants him to ask her out, right?” She nudged Katie, who ducked her head and blushed.  
  
Heidi looked incredulous. “Really?”  
  
“Don’t do it,” Dusty said. She won that hand, scraped up the little pot of chips, and Marie called the ante, shuffled the deck, dealt a new hand of cards.  
  
“Why not?” Rodney demanded. If these women were going to talk Katie out of going on a date with him once he was back to normal, he had to intervene.  
  
Dusty raised her eyebrows. “Are you kidding? Have you _seen_ the way Sheppard looks at McKay every time he catches McKay after McKay’s hooked up with Kusanagi or Kavanagh?”  
  
Amelia shuddered. “Urgh. Kavanagh. McKay must be pretty desperate.”  
  
“Kusanagi says McKay’s fantastic in bed, though. Good hands. She says she thinks maybe he used to play the piano?” Heidi fluttered her fingers like she was playing scales on an invisible keyboard. There was a filthy undertone to the gesture, but all of the women giggled.  
  
Rodney preened.  
  
“Kusanagi’s pretty upset he won’t give her the time of day now,” Heidi continued. She wagged a warning finger at Katie. “If you do date McKay, expect him to be an ass when you break up.”  
  
“Hooking up and dating are different,” Katie said. “I’m sure Rodney will be different if we’re dating.”  
  
It was Marie who made an unladylike noise of disbelief. “I wouldn’t count on it. Men are men.”  
  
Rodney went to defend himself, and he could probably get away with it. It was reasonable for Cadman to feel a little more sympathetic toward him, now that their consciousnesses were side by side. Only something struck him. “Wait. How does Sheppard look at McKay?”  
  
Dusty cast him a knowing look. “Are you kidding? If looks could kill, Kusanagi and Kavanagh would be dead a thousand times over.”  
  
Amelia raised her eyebrows. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”  
  
“Definitely.” Dusty laid her bet.  
  
Marie called for everyone else to bet.  
  
Damn women and their ability to talk without really talking.  
  
“Maybe my brain’s a little fried from having a tenant,” Rodney said. “What are you saying?”  
  
“Sheppard has it bad for McKay,” Dusty said. She fanned herself with her cards. “What I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall for _that_ hook-up.”  
  
“Sheppard can’t hook up with anyone, though. Like Weir and Beckett and Heightmeyer can’t,” Heidi pointed out. She cast Rodney a sly look. “Although maybe dating isn’t completely out of the question. You like Beckett, right?”  
  
Rodney wasn’t sure if Cadman did, so he nodded cautiously.  
  
“Pretty sure Heightmeyer has the hots for Lorne,” Dusty said.  
  
“Well, that ship sailed, without her on it,” Katie said.  
  
Marie sighed. “Yeah, but if she could just hop aboard for a pleasure cruise…”  
  
“Ronon. Lorne. Damn.” Dusty grinned wickedly. “Yeah, I’d buy a ticket for that.”  
  
“I get it, though,” Heidi said. “Why they can’t hook up. Chain of command and all that.”  
  
Rodney’s mind spun. “Are you serious? Sheppard’s into m - McKay? Or is he just desperate because he hasn’t had any for a year?”  
  
“I think it’s pretty serious,” Dusty said. “If Sheppard were jonesing for some action, he’s good-looking. He could get it from just about anyone he wanted, if he wanted. No, the way he looks at McKay...that’s romance.”  
  
The women sighed dreamily.  
  
Then Marie said, “Come on, back to the game! We don’t have all night.”  
  
And the game continued apace. Dusty bet aggressively, Katie bet conservatively, and Amelia seemed to just call whatever everyone else bet. Rodney played half-heartedly, his mind spinning. John liked him? As more than a friend? Thinking about it in such middle school terms was horrifying, but what if the ladies were right? Rodney had taken one look at John and known the man was out of his league - athletic, handsome, popular, thrill-seeker. But what if Rodney had a chance? John was intelligent and attractive, and he protected Rodney whenever they went off-world. He taught Rodney how to use a gun and kind of how to fight, and he _listened_ when Rodney was teaching him Ancient. He spent time with Rodney even when he didn’t have to.  
  
And suddenly John’s crankiness on the planet before Lorne and Rodney were kidnapped made total sense. Rodney had hooked up with Kusanagi the night before, overslept, and John _knew_ about it.  
  
As soon as the game was finished - Dusty the winner - Rodney excused himself and headed to the lab. He had to fix this, had to talk to John in his own body, on his own terms. The lab, surprisingly, was empty. The scientists, like the soldiers, worked in three shifts, so Atlantis was covered at all hours of the day, so if there was a scientific emergency, there was some kind of technical expert on hand to solve it. That the lab was empty was disconcerting. Of course, not all scientists on duty stayed in the lab. Sometimes it was better for everyone if they stayed in their respective quarters and communicated over the intra-network instant messaging system. Rodney had done that on more than one occasion to avoid someone spiking his tea with lemon juice.  
  
But the lab was his, and that was perfect, because even though the entirety of Atlantis was peripherally aware that Rodney was in Cadman’s body, the sight of her at his workstation, listening to his music (okay, so maybe sometimes he did like Rush) and doing his work would probably have been cause for alarm. He’d had Cadman cc him on the email she sent to Zelenka with the suggestions he summarily dismissed, so he fired up his email, scanned through the proposal. Then he accessed Zelenka’s project file on the Wraith culling beam and studied the specs and calculations for the modifications. Rodney rolled up his sleeves, found his favorite screwdriver, and set to work.

*

“Look, he’s not going to compromise the security of the city,” John said. “He has invaluable intel about the enemy - the layouts of their ships, their battle tactics, maybe even some of their tech. He hates the Wraith about ten times as much as we do. He’s dedicated to fighting them. And...he’s dedicated to Lorne. So.”  
  
“He can’t be on the same gate team as Major Lorne.” Elizabeth folded her hands on her desk and fixed John with a serious look.  
  
“I know. I want him on my team. I’ve needed a fourth for a while, and since we’re a first contact team, having another Pegasus native can only be a benefit.”  
  
“Have you spoken to Ronon?”  
  
“As much as that guy speaks, yes.” John crossed his fingers behind his back. He’d talked to Lorne, and that was better than talking to Ronon. Ronon didn’t talk so much as shrug and grunt a lot. But he hadn’t voiced a specific objection when John mentioned Ronon joining his gate team, so there was that.  
  
“I don’t know, John. He’s still something of an unknown quantity. Seven years on the run, with the Wraith hunting him and killing every human who dared to help him - he’s probably got some issues he needs to work through.”  
  
“Then have Heightmeyer check him over some more. We all have issues, Elizabeth. I think we’re underestimating the guy’s resiliency.”  
  
“Well, I want to be sure he’s resilient, and that he’s not using Lorne as some kind of psychological stopgap. Lorne is a soldier and in peril on a regular basis, and not everyone goes back to Earth on two feet,” Elizabeth said. “Losing Lorne could turn him into something we’re not prepared to deal with.”  
  
“Ronon’s a soldier, too.”  
  
“Not from any Earth military.”  
  
“He’s not oblivious to the mortality of a fellow soldier.”  
  
Elizabeth sucked in a breath.  
  
John could feel it. She was going to say yes. She was going to -  
  
“Dr. Weir, Colonel Sheppard, please come to the infirmary immediately,” Carson said over the radio. “It’s Lieutenant Cadman - and Rodney.”  
  
John tore out of the office and down the hall to the nearest transporter, Elizabeth on his heels. Teyla, Heightmeyer, and Zelenka were all gathered around Cadman’s cot in the infirmary when John arrived. Cadman looked pale, was back in a hospital gown and hooked up to machines.  
  
“What happened?” Cadman asked.  
  
“You had seizure.” Carson’s expression was grim.  
  
Cadman frowned. “Why?” Was she herself, or was this Rodney?  
  
Carson darted a glance at Heightmeyer, who nodded. Carson said, “From what we can tell, the constant fighting over the dominance of your brain is having a deleterious effect on its lower functions. Heart rate, respiration, organ function…”  
  
“That’s not good.” That was definitely Rodney, all sarcasm.  
  
John rubbed his wrist absently.  
  
“I’m not sure how long you can go on like this,” Carson continued.  
  
“What do you mean?” John asked.  
  
“These misfires will only increase in frequency and severity with time.” Carson sighed.  
  
Cadman lifted her chin. “Fine. Then Rodney will have to stop trying to take control of my body.”  
  
“It’s not as simple as that,” Carson said. He glanced at Heightmeyer again.  
  
Heightmeyer cleared her throat. “One of you has to release control. One of you has to let go completely.”  
  
“Maybe if we hadn’t tried to share in the first place, this wouldn’t have happened,” Cadman said. “Rodney, if you’d just told me what I needed to do, I could have done it for you. We might have solved this.”  
  
“Well,” Cadman - no, Rodney - snapped, “if you hadn’t stupidly and optimistically put your trust in Zelenka, then we could have worked together. I had no choice but to hijack your body while you were asleep.”  
  
“What happens to the one who lets go?” Teyla asked.  
  
John stared at Cadman, searching for any hint of Rodney in her eyes.  
  
Carson winced. “Well, we’re not certain, of course. It’s not like we’ve run into a lot of these situations before.”  
  
Cadman said, “They would disappear. I know they would. Because I can already feel it happening to me. It’s getting hard and harder to be in here. It’s taking more of an effort.”  
  
John’s throat closed. That wasn’t Cadman. That was Rodney.  
  
Cadman blinked. “Has it always been like that?”  
  
“Since the beginning. Every time I took control, when you pushed me back, it was like everything was more faded, more muted,” Rodney said.  
  
“Oh. I thought that was because you were tired. From fighting me.” Cadman bit her lip.  
  
Rodney said, “Look, where are we on a solution?”  
  
Zelenka pressed his lips into a thin line. Cadman made one of Rodney’s patented impatient _go ahead_ gestures.  
  
“Well,” Zelenka said, “we successfully re-materialized a pair of mice. They were whole and correctly reconstructed -”  
  
“But?” Rodney asked.  
  
“They didn’t survive.”  
  
John closed his eyes.  
  
Carson said, “If one of you doesn’t let go, both of you will die.”  
  
“I’ll do it.”  
  
Carson bit his lip. “Which one of you said that?”  
  
And John knew, without seeing, it was Rodney.  
  
“No,” Cadman said. “I - I’m just a marine. You’re the chief scientist. You’re more important.”  
  
“But this is your body, and I - it’s too hard to hold on. We did everything we could. Zelenka did his best. I never thought I’d die in a woman’s body, but this is Pegasus. This is the Stargate program. Strange things happen, and people die.”  
  
_No. No no no no no._ John swallowed hard. “Rodney -”  
  
Cadman sat up, and John was looking right into Rodney’s eyes. The Mark on the inside of his wrist was screaming.  
  
“Can I have a pen and paper? To write a letter to my sister.” Rodney reached out, grasped John’s wrist, right where it was burning. “I need you to take it to her, hand-deliver it the next time you go back to Earth, all right?”  
  
“Rodney,” John began.  
  
“Promise me.”  
  
John knew he should. That was what he was supposed to do, but his body wouldn’t obey him, wouldn't -  
  
“John?” Elizabeth asked, concerned.  
  
“The gate!” Cadman threw aside the blankets. “We can use the gate!”  
  
“What?” Carson asked. “No, stay, rest -”  
  
Cadman grabbed her pants, pulled them on under her hospital gown. It was Rodney who was speaking at a mile a minute.  
  
“The gate dematerializes you as you step into it, sending your information to the next gate so it can rematerialize you on the other side.”  
  
“We know that,” Zelenka said, but hope rose in John’s chest. He’d heard this tone in Rodney’s voice before. This was the answer at the last minute, the flash of genius, the satori, the -  
  
“If we can take one of the crystal control modules for the gate and interface it with the dart, we should be able to build a stable system.” Cadman yanked her shirt on over her head, wriggled creatively, and tugged her hospital gown out from under her shirt.  
  
“No, Rodney, you’re in no condition to do this.”  
  
It was Cadman, not Rodney, who grasped Carson’s hand and looked deep into his eyes. “No time to talk. We need to do this before the next seizure.”  
  
In seemingly no time at all, they were down in the hangar-turned-lab where the dart wreckage was being stored. Cadman placed a gate crystal into a control module she - with Rodney’s sure dexterity - had wired into the dart module. Then she rubbed her hands together.  
  
“Let’s do this.”  
  
Zelenka said, “Just because it works in simulation doesn’t mean -”  
  
“I’d rather not suffer a fatal seizure while you try to round up more mice, so push the damn button.”  
  
John couldn’t tell if it was Cadman or Rodney who said that.  
  
John licked his lips, tried to will his pounding heart to slow down. “Rodney, all the mice died.”  
  
“What are we, mice or men?” That was definitely Rodney.  
  
“Are you sure about this?” Elizabeth asked.  
  
John wasn’t. He hoped and hoped and hoped but he wasn’t sure.  
  
But Rodney as Cadman said, “Absolutely.”  
  
Elizabeth nodded. “Okay.”  
  
Cadman threw back her shoulders, went to step into the beaming area.  
  
Zelenka tapped away at his laptop. “It’s ready. I suggest you take a step back.”  
  
John obeyed, on autopilot, gaze fixed on Cadman. This might be the last time he saw Rodney - any of Rodney - ever again.  
  
And then Cadman raised a finger in the universal gesture for _wait._ She stepped out of the beaming area, headed straight for John.  
  
She caught by the shoulders and said, “John, it’s _me._ ” And then she kissed him. “Just in case this doesn’t work.”  
  
She was back in the beaming area before John could react, could speak. It wasn’t Cadman who’d kissed him. It was Rodney.  
  
Carson and Elizabeth stared at him.  
  
Cadman - or Rodney, John couldn’t tell - said to Zelenka, “Hit it.”  
  
“Wait!” John cried.  
  
Zelenka snatched his hand away from his keyboard. “What?”  
  
John tore off his wristband and stepped toward Rodney, hand outstretched so Rodney could see. “Are you sure?”  
  
Cadman said, “That matches my Mark.” She pressed a hand to her ribs.  
  
John shook his head. “No, while Rodney’s in your body, it matches his Mark too.”  
  
Cadman frowned. “What are you saying?”  
  
“I’m saying that Rodney’s Mark is a Stargate. A Pegasus Stargate. I know because - because my Mark always matches his. But when he ended up in you, it changed to match yours, because Marks are physiological, not psychological.”  
  
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”  
  
“Rodney, you have to be a hundred percent sure,” John said in a low voice. “Please. I -”  
  
Cadman shoved him back. He stumbled. Before he caught himself, Cadman said, “Hit it!”  
  
And the culling beam flared.  
  
John cried out, but then Zelenka was tapping rapidly, and the beam flared again, and there was Cadman, still in the clothes she’d pulled on hastily, and Rodney, still in what he’d been wearing when they were off-world.  
  
“It worked!” Rodney cried. “I can’t believe it worked!”  
  
Cadman punched him on the shoulder. “You mean you weren’t sure?”  
  
“I can’t believe _you,_ ” John snapped. He crossed the hangar and grabbed Rodney by the tac vest, hauled him in for a kiss. Then he pulled back, winced, grasped at his burning - bare - wrist.  
  
“Let me see.” Rodney curled his fingers around John’s wrist carefully, turned John’s arm so he could look at the pale flesh on the inside of John’s wrist.  
  
The Mark was shifting, changing, and there it was again, the Pegasus gate with the address for Atlantis. Rodney brushed his fingers over the Mark tentatively. John shivered.  
  
“How long?” Rodney asked quietly.  
  
“Since you put on a personal shield and walked into the darkness.”  
  
“That’s a long time.”  
  
John nodded.  
  
Rodney pulled him in and kissed him slowly, softly.  
  
Carson cleared his throat. “We need to have a chat about your Mark, Colonel.”  
  
“And,” Elizabeth added, “about your gate team roster.”  
  
John nodded and leaned in to kiss Rodney again.


End file.
